The Archive

Time travellers

Right, I've got the days and events confused over this last couple of days, so it's going to be a bit of a jumble, but I will plough on regardless.

We decided to check out (ie sneer at) the Museum of Modern Art.

The thing about the MOMO is that it’s big. So very big. And so very full of art. So much art.

I’ll be honest, I struggled around with Wig, ticking boxes and generally not really appreciating too much.

We did like the big dangly, swinging fan though. That was good.

And Pellet seemed to enjoy himself, until the students of Twatbag Elementary came to shatter his peace in the sculpture garden.

Still, that’s a big air tick of a sight, and we were handily just around the corner from the United Nations, where we decided to take in a tour.

Until we discovered the tour took two hours, didn’t start for another hour and seemed to dwell on the art of the United Nations building instead of taking us directly to the Security Council and allowing us to ‘have our say’ to the global village.

So we buggered off, down to Union Square Station, which is for my money as good a sight as you’ll see in New York.

No, hold that, there was one sight that, at that moment, was more beautiful than all others to me. It was a vision of loveliness – a sports store selling discount Converse All Star trainers, which I purchased immediately to soothe my troubled toes.

Ah, bliss.

After this, I caught up with the others at the high altitude bar in Columbus circle where we sat around drinking overpriced cocktails. Yes, it was just like Sex and the City, but without the attractive women, or the glamour, or the money. So I guess it was just four guys drinking girl drinks in a bar then.

So, after a few cheeky mojitos and a quick nap, it was time for dinner already.

Tonight we had elected to try the restaurant renowned for the finest steaks in New York (well, Pellet still had his 'world's worst vegetarian' honour to uphold), Smith and Wollenskys, rather dangerously misremembered by Beardog as Smollenskys.

Fortunately, we remembered the difference before we ended up in a low quality NY themed hell hole.

As it turned out the restaurant was rather good, the steak (I'm assured by those as eat such things) quite marvelous and the lamb chops so splendidly turned out that Wig decided to wear one as a buttonhole.

There may have been a bit to drink too.

And in a rather surreal turn, when chatting to the waiter, he revealed that recent celebrity customers to this establishment included... Neil Warnock, Crystal Palace manager and general source of numerous catchphrases from lads holidays over the last 5 years.

Remarkable.

Anyway, after the dinner we opted to go for a quiet drink near the hotel as nobody had the energy for a big night out.

Which is how we ended up in a bar recommended by Dump's book of lies, which rightly told us it was a nice place for a drink but neglected to add that it was in the Waldorf Astoria hotel!

So, rather more pricey than we were expected, but a bona fide sight as well, so value was achieved.

Especially after a group of five rather attractive, very drunk women who were in New York for their hen night decided to adopt us.

Which was nice.

We spent the rest of the evening pretty much being berated by the bride to be for fancying her friend and not fancying her.

Yes, you read that right. The bride to be. And I'd also add that the fancying her friend was her interpretation of events as well.

Still, it was a fun and funny evening and the girls were a laugh, even if the lucky bride was soon christened 'earache'.

As Pellet said, "What, is her husband deaf or something?"

After the bar closed we wandered around briefly looking for some late license action, to no avail.

And so, after a pleasant and not at all mad night out for our last night in New York, to bed.

posted by Peter The Great @ 8:42 AM